Oblivion
by KaydenceRei
Summary: He desperately wanted to forget the pain. And she wanted, so badly, to be the one to help him do so without the influence of alcohol. Sawyer/Juliet. Dharmaville, 1976.


**Here we go. M-Rated again, go me. And to think, I used to be such a prude.**

**Oblivion**:

Whatever happened, happened. Daniel's little signature statement had been proven the other week when he'd attempted to get on the sub and go to the mainland to save his younger self a world of pain. The sub had magically gone awry and needed repairs. So instead he sat in his Dharmaville house, eying up a bottle of rum that sat taunting him on the counter top in the kitchen.

It was the summer of 1976 and today his father would kill his mother and then himself while he watched, helpless, from under the bed. He'd been doing well for about a year about drinking his problems away. Juliet had been sure to make it clear she wouldn't allow him to do that. He wondered vaguely when she'd gone from enemy to best friend. Either way, she wasn't standing here telling him not to right now and he desperately needed to forget.

Before he knew it he was taking the few necessary steps into the kitchen and his fingers were coiled around the neck of the bottle. He got no further than that when a soft hand came to rest over top his calloused one. He didn't need to look to know that it was Juliet standing there silently telling him not to do it. His eyes trailed to her hand and he wondered how, after working for so long on engines and hippie vans, how those soft hands of hers weren't calloused as well.

"It won't help," she said softly.

And he hated, but at the same time, secretly adored the way those blue pools of melted ice she had for eyes could simply look and see straight through him.

Juliet watched as he released his grip on the bottle and turned to look at her. He had a look that begged her to tell him _why_ she knew it wouldn't help. A look that questioned how she could have even known he'd be wanting to do this today. She felt no pity for him, only compassion. So she brought her hands up and cupped the sides of his face within them. "There are better ways to forget," she assured him. And she wanted, so badly, to be the one that helped him do so without the influence of alcohol.

He studied the look on her face and it was one he'd never seen before. And he was almost positive he'd come to know every facial expression she had, yet here, now, she managed something completely new. He found himself wondering if maybe she would ever need him one day as much as he always seemed to need her.

She brought one hand down from his cheek to rest on his shoulder as the other came to rest on the back of his head. And she climbed to the tips of her toes as she pressed her lips to his. She wondered now if he'd ever realize she needed him just as much as he needed her, if not more. The knowledge of his utter surprise made her smile as she pulled away for a moment and rested her forehead against his. "Just let me help you," she told him gently, daring to look straight into his eyes.

What he saw in her eyes in that moment helped him decide that maybe _she_ was exactly what he needed right now. And he wished in some way he could go tell the little boy hiding under his bed that even though it was the worst day of his life, not to give up. Because later on some crazy, beautiful blonde with eyes like the ocean would tazer the fuck out of him, lock him in a cage and become the best friend he'd ever have in his life. Immediately he cupped her cheeks in his hands and feverishly kissed her a second time in return.

There had been subtle touches over the past, what had accumulated to nearly two years. But this was all new territory for the both of them. They had never kissed. Never had any romantic feelings towards the other. At least, not that he'd been aware of. But when she stopped him from drowning in booze just a few moments ago, he felt like someone had flicked the switch on his feelings. She'd suddenly gone from best friend to something more, something he couldn't quite explain.

He didn't notice the shedding of socks and shoes. Their endless path down the hallway towards whichever bedroom came first, all the while their lips barely seemed to part. They were breathing in the essence of each other, sharing feelings of warmth as hands roamed one anothers' bodies. He didn't know if this was what she had meant when she offered to help him. And he paused, broke away as they'd stumbled irrationally into her bedroom.

Almost immediately he pulled his hands out from the lining of her jeans. He felt like a fool. He hadn't once asked her if she even wanted to do this. Even though he'd heard no protests from her. He pulled his face far enough from hers that he caught the color in her face from exerting herself in their activities. The flush on her cheeks made her even more gorgeous and he knew she'd never really seen herself in that light before. She was more or less oblivious to her looks and he realized he liked that about her more than he should.

"I'm sorry.." he muttered, his voice influenced by his sudden frustrations. He watched as her face dropped a little and he felt guilty immediately. He could see from her expression he'd hurt her feelings, which was something he'd never meant to do. This shouldn't have even started. Almost immediately he noticed her getting self-conscious on him as she tugged at the hem of her shirt and pulled it down, covering any exposed skin he'd revealed in the onslaught from the kitchen to the bedroom.

She felt trapped suddenly. She had no idea why she thought he would want this. Or rather, want her. Her plan had simply been to help. She wanted so badly to help him forget in some other way then to lose himself in alcohol. She'd nearly forgotten that she wasn't who he really wanted. She was just a companion he'd been forced together with. There was nowhere for her to run though. He was in the doorway to her bedroom and she was trapped inside.

Her eyes averted down to the ground and she self-consciously rubbed one of her arms as she tried to figure out what to do. She should have known this would be a horrible idea from the start.

Sawyer kept his eyes trained on her. Sure, she'd told him at one point about her past, her failed-marriage. But when she'd told him how after her marriage ended, her ex had continued to make her feel less attractive every passing moment as he took younger and younger women and flaunted them before her. He thought that maybe she was just modest about her looks but the look on her face now told him she wasn't. She actually believed it.

"I didn't mean that the way ya' think," he told her instantly, his fingers dipping below her chin and forcing her gaze to his. And there were unshed tears in her eyes that made him want to take all of those insecurities away from her, insecurities he hadn't been aware of until they'd landed in 1974 and joined the Dharma Initiative. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "I just.. is this what you really want?" he dared to ask.

He was afraid she would say no. He was afraid that her issues really were that he assumed she wanted sex rather then her insecurities with her beauty. But the look that crept into her eyes after the question answered that for him. It was a look of simple perfection that made him want her more, because the smallest of smiles graced her features.

"We both know if I wanted to stop you, I could have and I would have," she assured him, feeling a bit more calm than she had been just moments ago. She'd come to realize not too long ago that he was her best friend, and she should feel for him as such. But her feelings had gone beyond that. She found that she actually _loved_ him, not that she would tell him this. It was like one of those really bad cliches. Where you fell in love with the best friend you've ever had.

Sawyer couldn't deny the validity of that statement. He knew how easily she could have stopped him had she wanted to. Which is why he now wondered why he'd even bothered to stop when she hadn't. Almost as though it was morally wrong to want to make love to your best friend. And he realized that it probably wasn't the most ethical thing in the world. But then again, when did he base his actions off morality and ethics?

If he wanted to know what these feelings for her were, he was going to have to put them to the test. So he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him, seeing the color go directly back into her cheeks. And he dipped his hands underneath her shirt, fingers trailing paths up and down her spine. And before long he was lowering her down onto her bed. When her hands lifted casually he pulled the shirt up over her head and tossed it aside, taking a moment to look her over.

He wished now he'd taken the time to see what was underneath the jumpsuit before now. He wondered how he never had, he also noticed that self-conscious look creeping its way back onto her features and he let his mouth do the work. He let his lips blaze a trail from her neck, to her collar bone until he reached her breasts that were covered in just a bra now. One hand trailed behind her, releasing the clasp as the other began tugging it off by the straps.

Once the obstruction was gone he found himself wondering how she could have _ever_ questioned her looks. He locked eyes with her momentarily and smiled at her, wondering what he'd ever done right to deserve her in his life. Coherent thoughts left him when she shifted her knee between his legs. He arched an eyebrow up at her playful smile and he smirked in response. It was only a second later that he realized she'd just unbuttoned his jeans and that her hand was-- "Shit.." he muttered, his forehead dropping onto her shoulder.

He nearly groaned as her hand cupped him, and he felt himself throbbing in response. After all, it had been a while. Amazingly, he hadn't sought out comfort from any of the Dharma women. He reached for her hand, stopping her only seconds after she'd begun a rhythmic stroke and he caught the devilish glint in her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. He kicked off the jeans a moment later and began to work on hers as he lowered his mouth down onto one breast, suckling at the rosy peak and causing it to instantly harden.

The moan that she let escape in reaction was unstoppable and she instinctively arched her back. It had been years since anyone had really bothered to pay her body any real attention and she was feeling the effects of that right now. She shimmied herself out of the jeans and felt him use one of his hands to push them off the bed. If he was going to continue the onslaught on her breasts, she felt it would only be fair to even the playing field.

She managed to grasp his wrists with her hands and she used her body to flip him over onto his back. She climbed on top of him instantly, taking control as she gave him one short kiss on the lips, his chin, his neck, his chest, his abdomen. And then she tugged his boxers away and took him in her mouth before he would have a chance to even comprehend what she was doing.

"Juliet.." he growled out instantly. Nobody had done _that_ without prompting before and he was shocked at the ease she'd done it with. He couldn't even string together a sentence as she did so and he felt compelled to grasp her hair in response. He managed to catch her eye as she looked up at him and obviously the warning look he shot her was enough because she released him from her mouth and came back to meet his lips.

He wasn't sure _what_ was going on exactly. But he knew it was most likely a battle for dominance, because neither of them were all that used to surrendering themselves completely to somebody else. And finally, he got her back onto her back as he used one hand to lock both of her wrists up above her head. Somewhere in there battle for who was on top, he'd managed to get rid of her panties and he grinned down at her now.

He met her lips with his own, refusing to release her hands as his other hand trailed down a line straight to her wetness. It was shocking that already she was ready and he couldn't resist but to let one finger dip inside her, and he watched her eyes cloud over in response and he realized he'd never seen her face so free from the mask of indifference as it was in this moment.

"I want you, James.." she managed out huskily as she writhed beneath him. She was fighting for her arms but he wasn't giving them to her and she felt strange to be subjected to anything from him and not be even slightly nervous about it. She always tried to be the one in control at times like these, but she felt perfectly fine letting him take the reigns.

He wasn't giving her the satisfaction of having him inside of her just yet. Instead he dipped another finger into her warm folds and she arched her back into him almost immediately. She bit down on her lip, suppressing a moan as his lips met the rosy peak of her breasts once more. And she realized he wasn't stopping, and she couldn't stop him, and it wasn't long before she shuddered out his name and saw spots and felt that ripple of sheer pleasure course through her from those skillful fingers of his.

And before she had time to breathe, she was sucking in a deep breath as his length entered her slowly. Her hands had been released and she felt them automatically go to his face and bring his mouth to hers. She didn't _really_ need to breathe yet anyways, right? Without even realizing she was doing it, she was moving together with him, meeting him at every thrust and feeling every ounce of that fulfilling sensation as they did so.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, attempting to further their connection and their mouths hardly left each others until she felt it necessary to breathe again. And she was burying her face in his shoulder, her fingers clawing into his back and she could see from the primal look in his eyes that it actually seemed to turn him on even more. Before long he'd thrown her over the edge again and she'd nearly felt like screaming out the pleasure. Instead she'd bitten into his shoulder and muffled it as he emptied himself within her moments later.

It seemed to take several minutes for them to untangle themselves from each other and when they did, Sawyer laid his back onto the mattress and glanced over at her. Nothing had been more amazing then seeing the look in her eyes as she fully lost control and he felt himself pulling the blonde tightly into his side. He smiled as she curled into him and draped an arm lazily across his chest.

"Did I help?" she asked moments later, her eyes remaining closed with a peaceful smile resting on her face.

"Oh yea'.." he assured her, resting his head against hers and smelling the scent of her shampoo as her hair spilled out beneath her. She was a whole new form of intoxication and he was afraid he was already addicted to her. "You got no idea how much, sweetheart.." he stated, running a finger through long blonde locks.

She smiled softly and nuzzled her head into his chest. She felt herself drifting into slumber and she hoped he realized he helped her as much as she helped him.

**()()END()()**

**Well holy crap. I could _not_ fall asleep until I got this out of my head. Lucky for, well, whoever reads this anyways. Hope it was good.**


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